Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The next morning, neither Abigail nor Peter mentioned the incident, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it during the day, even when she should have been at prayer. She wondered what she would do if Peter asked her to rub his prick again? She repeated to herself that, as his nurse, she ought to do anything to make him feel better, and if helping with his prick was part of that care, then so be it. The thought of asking Mother Clare’s advice did cross her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She feared the Abbess might be angry and forbid her to see Peter again.That evening, when she returned after vespers to prepare his dressings for the night, Peter seemed inclined to be talkative. He told Abigail more about his family and his work at the smithy, and how he hoped eventually to become formally apprenticed to the blacksmith. Abigail was pleased to see that he was looking forward to returning to work. She knew that Mother Clare had bonus veren siteler spoken to the smith and had been assured that Peter would be welcomed back to work as soon as he was well again. The smith had spoken well of him, as a hard-working intelligent lad, who had the potential to do well.Despite herself, she wanted to see Peter’s prick again. He appeared to be avoiding the subject, so she decided to come right out and ask.“So how is your prick this evening?” she asked, blushing as she used the dirty word.Peter seemed unwilling to answer, so she lifted up the blanket to see. His organ was curled up, nestling in the thick dark mass of hair between his legs. But even as she looked, it began to twitch and swell, and was soon almost as large as it had been the day before.“It’s you looking at it that makes it grow,” he said, blushing himself.“Would you like me to rub it again?” asked Abigail.“Please, yes, bedava bahis I think it would be good if you did,” admitted Peter.This time, she knew to handle it carefully, and it was curiously exciting to feel it swell to an even greater size as she stroked it. As she slid her hand up and down, she observed the veins standing out, and the drips of thin liquid that leaked from the hole in the end.Peter was starting to breathe heavily. He seemed to be trying to hold himself back. Abigail remembered her lesson from the day before and squeezed gently on the shaft.“Ah, God’s blood, that’s good,” gasped Peter without thinking.Abigail dropped his prick in horror.“No!” she exclaimed, “You must not talk like that!”Peter blushed, ashamed of himself. Even his mother used to box his ears when he uttered the Lord’s name in vain, but he knew that doing so in front of the nuns was unforgivable, even one who was handling his prick.“I’m deneme bonus sorry, really I am. I won’t do it again, I promise. But it just felt so good. Please don’t stop.”But Abigail was not to be mollified.“If you cannot control your mouth any better than your prick, you must look after your needs yourself,” she announced. Dropping the blanket back over his wilting organ, she gathered up her things and flounced off. Peter stared disconsolately at the diminishing bulge. If Abigail didn’t come back, he feared that his bollocks might swell up and explode. ~~~~~~Fortunately, the next morning Abigail was back with her cloths, water and ointment, although she still looked cross. Wordlessly, she changed his dressings, but inside she was trying not to smile at how miserable Peter looked.At last he could hold it in no longer.“I’m sorry, Sister Abigail,” he blurted out. “I know I shouldn’t have used those words. I prayed about it last night and asked His forgiveness. Will you forgive me too?”“Well, only you will know if He forgives you,” said Abigail tartly, “but as long as your confession was sincere, maybe you’ll only have to spend an extra two hundred years in Purgatory for your wickedness.”